Something a Little Different

by
Jameschick

He took him in anger, and he enjoyed it. He promised himself it wouldn't happen again. But he broke that promise not even a week later.

By the time Spike had moved out, they had established a pattern of sorts. When Anya wasn't around, they fucked. Xander always topped. Spike didn't seem to mind - not at first. But then, one night, that changed.

Xander had gone by the crypt; Anya was off to a conference in LA for women business owners and he figured they could fuck around a bit. He never realised before the vampire had come to live with him, how dirty and wrong he was. But now that he knew, he needed to find a way to release the feelings he had so that Anya would never find out how much he enjoyed hurting Spike when they fucked, how he got off by making him beg and bleed. The more Spike howled, the more pain he inflicted, the more Xander enjoyed it. Spike must have enjoyed it too; he always came, and he never said no, after all.

But that particular night was different. Spike had offered him a drink and he had accepted. Then the darkness came.

He woke some time later, tied to the bed and numb from the neck down. He looked around frantically and saw Spike sitting in the chair across from him. Naked. Hard. Holding a whip. He knew then that this was going to change everything.

Spike had whipped him, fucked him, jerked off on his face and even gone so far as to put his entire hand inside of him that night. Xander didn't feel anything until the next morning. And what he felt then was Spike’s hard prick still inside of him as the vampire slept on top of him. Xander’s struggles woke the slumbering demon who lifted his head and leered at him before beginning to fuck him long and hard.

To Xander’s shame, he enjoyed it. He even turned his head and offered his throat. But that was then.

Xander looked down at the tuxedo jacket he was crumpling in his hands and sighed. Twelve hours ago he had left his fiancée standing at the altar. He had turned his back on her, and his only shot at domestic bliss. Well, not necessarily bliss, but domestic at least. But how could he go through with it? When he knew he would only hurt her. He had promised, after they became serious, that whatever it was he had been doing with Spike would stop. He'd even told the vampire it was over. Spike had merely shrugged his shoulders, said "whatever" and let him walk away. Of course, within the week, Xander had gone back and all but begged Spike for the pain that he was only too happy to give him. He had proposed to Anya in the basement of the shop, the night the world was possibly going to end, with the vampire’s cool cum still leaking from his ass.

He had spent more nights after Buffy's death in Spike’s bed than at home with his fiancée. And after being fitted for his tux, he'd gone straight to Spike and bent him over the tomb in the centre of his crypt and rode his ass for nearly an hour. He'd been lucky no one had walked in.

He knew about Spike and Buffy; hells, Spike told him as soon it had happened. It didn't change things for them; they weren't in love, didn't really even like each other. They just fulfilled a need in the other; one that wasn't being fulfilled by the women in their lives, one Xander didn't want his woman to even know about, and one Spike was desperate to have Buffy fulfil for him. But Buffy only wanted to feel; she didn't give back, and Spike needed to feel, too.

So it continued. And when Buffy finally ended things with Spike - like Xander knew she would eventually - Spike had come to him. He had allowed the vampire to lose himself in his body, in his blood. Spike had poured out his rage, his pain, his unrequited love and loneliness into Xander. And Xander had taken it all without hesitation. Enjoyed it even. Wanted Spike to never stop hitting him, hurting him, fucking him.

It was then that he knew he couldn't marry Anya. He would never be the husband she wanted. She wanted a home and a family, children, a dog and a white picket fence. He couldn't give her that. His life was darkness, monsters, slaying and pain. Pain from fighting the good fight, pain from allowing a vampire to fuck him. His only joy these days came from the ivory points of fangs in his flesh, a cold hard cock in his ass, or a preternaturally strong body opening underneath his own and soft guttural pleas for "harder" "faster" "more".

When the soft knock on the door came, Xander wasn't surprised. He knew that he would come to him, to help him, to hurt him. To let him forget, even for a little while that his life was shit. That he'd likely thrown away the only woman who might have understood his need for the darkness. That that woman might even now be looking for ways to turn him into the next Olaf.

He opened the door. There were no words spoken as Spike stepped inside and Xander began to undress. Naked, he lay face down on the bed and listened to the soft snick of the leather belt as Spike pulled it from his belt loops. He braced himself for the pain, but it didn't come. He started to turn over when soft cool hands held him in place and then the bed dipped as Spike climbed in beside him and pulled him into his arms.

"Spike, what... "

"Hush, pet. What say we try something a little different this time."

Spike kissed Xander then. It was soft and wet and like nothing he'd ever felt before. As far as first kisses went, that one was a doozy. Finally pulling away from the soft, inviting mouth he looked up, his eyes twin orbs of confusion. Spike smiled at him, gently.

"I know what we have isn't love, Xander. But we need each other; we could be more than just a source of release to one another. That is, if you want to try."

Xander looked into the icy blue eyes of the man before him and smiled. Maybe this was what they had both needed all along, each other.

"I think I'd like that. I think I'd like that a lot."

Spike smiled and kissed him again

The End